


The Unknown Soldier

by AQuietThinker



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, November 11 - Freeform, Post-World War II, Short One Shot, Soldiers, Veterans Day, War, We're pretending Homophobia isnt a thing in the 50s 0r 40s, World War I, World War II, poppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQuietThinker/pseuds/AQuietThinker
Summary: The Unknown Soldier Tomb commemorates all un-identified soldiers that died during World War ll.
Relationships: Collins & Farrier (Dunkirk), Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk)
Kudos: 11
Collections: 'Hands'





	The Unknown Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This is being posted the 11 of November, Veterans day. None of the poems are mine, the first one is "Wear a Little Poppy" is by Don Crawford, and the second one is called "Suicide in the Trenches", by Siegfried Sassoon.

_ I wear a little poppy, _

_ As red as red can be, _

_ To show that I remember, _

_ those who fought for me _

**November 11, 1920.**

“Go on, Jack.”

His mother had pushed him gently towards the tomb, already circled by crowns of crimson flowers and candles. Gently, he had lowered his own bouquet, smaller but just as vividly red. It landed near the corner of the circle.

His father is already walking away, his steps echoing loudly throughout the vast walls of the church, but his mother stays besides him, her hands on his shoulders while he reads the marble inscriptions.

_ Beneath this stone rests the body _

_ Of a British warrior _

_ Unknown by name or rank _

_ Brought from France to lie among _

_ The most illustrious of the land _

“Papa fought in that war, right?”

His mother's hands tighten but she smiles down at him. “You see how he’s missing a few fingers?”

He nodded, glancing slightly at the entrance of the church where the silhouette of his father stood. 

“He lost them because of the war, because he fought very bravely. The war to end all wars.”

“So I’ll lose my hand if I ever fight in a war like that?”

She kneeled to meet his vision, cupping his cheeks softly. “No, darling. I pray every day that you never know the horrors of war.”

The young child had just stared back at the tomb, reading its words and smelling the scent of the freshly placed poppies.

\- - - - - - - - - -

**November 11, 1952**

“Love? You with me?”

A hand gripped around his waist and Collins was brought back from reality. He turned to see his husband, whose sea storm eyes gazed at him with kind worry.

“Sorry I just…. I remembered something.” he said, wiping his nose quickly.

“The war?”

“No, no.” he muttered, gripping the bouquet of poppies. “Something else.”

Before the man could speak again he kneeled, letting the flowers fall gracefully on the marble floor. When he got back up a few older men, some in their perfectly tailored yet old fashioned uniforms, nodded at him with approval.

His hands had begun shaking again, a habit since his first near encounter with Death’s pale face.

Farrier’s strong hands again wrapped around him for comfort, and he found himself seeking it, turning to bury his head in his lover’s neck. The man’s fingers tangled into his hair in soft, circular motions, and they stood there for a while, ignored by the many people who paid their respects to the fallen souls.

When he finally regained his composure and his fingers slowed their frantic pace, he looked up.

“They died for us to… to no fall for this again and we...”

Farrier’s eyes shone with melancholy. “I know. But we survived to remind the world of their sacrifice as well as our own.”

Collins nodded, and wrapped his hand around his husband. After bowing one last time, they turned and walked amongst the many sorrowful faces in silence.

_ You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye _

_ Who cheer when soldier lads pass by, _

_ Sneak home and pray you’ll never know _

_ The hell where youth and laughter go _


End file.
